


Hissing Fauna

by BearHatter



Category: DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bat Family, Damian is a brat but I love him, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, The Avengers are confused, eventual Batfamily fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearHatter/pseuds/BearHatter
Summary: Clint sighed again and scratched his head. “I can already tell you are going to be huge trouble,” he informed the kid, “But believe it or not I am not in this to make your life hard, or whatever. It’s just, this is some really intense stuff, and I don’t think--”He was interrupted by an intense scoffing noise and no break in the stone mask of fury the kid’s face had become.He tried again. “All I need is for you to tell me what you were doing with--” He was interrupted again, this time by the barest glint of some sharp object the kid was trying to use to cut through the bola ropes."Fuck it,” Clint decided, and just tranquilized him.No Bat family familiarity needed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bats and Birds (and Avengers)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530582) by [unicorngirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicorngirl/pseuds/unicorngirl). 



> So this was inspired by a fic by unicorngirl that envisioned a meeting between the Avengers and the Robins. It's great, but I thought that was a really fun idea to play with, so this is my take on it, with a little less Tim whump and 100% more Damian. 
> 
> As far as canon goes, I'm playing it pretty fast and loose. Clint/Hawkeye is more of a 616 comic-universe, fanon Clint than, like, the farmer and family man he randomly is in the movies now.

The kid was definitely sketchy.

He was wearing dark clothes, hunched in a way to hide his face from any potential city cameras, and he had that look of utter competence, surety, that--well, that Clint had seen before in kids that age, but--mostly the street-smart ones. The ones who really needed to know what they were doing or they could end up dead. Oh, and also, he was breaking into a building. That was the biggest tip-off.

Then again, he also looked like he was maybe about 11 years old.

Clint heaved a huge, silent, sigh.  This wasn’t really his thing. In fact, he might be perfectly happy letting a punk kid get into trouble. He had been that punk kid, and he knew he wouldn’t have appreciated interference. But that building he was breaking into happened to belong to some new mafia group trying to act like a legitimate business and had a lot of people fooled. Hawkeye had been doing some surveillance on them, and long story short--if this kid got caught, nobody would ever see him again. Because he would be dead.

Unless Clint caught him first. He heaved another long-suffering sigh and dropped silently to the roof behind the kid, reaching out to grab his arm from where it was presumably lock-picking away.  _ Woah, that is not a lock-pick, _ Clint had time to think before some kind of hand-held device disappeared up the kid’s sleeve, and there was a blur of motion followed by a sharp pain in his forearm. When Clint instinctively let go, the kid was practically gone already, sprinting for the side of the building, and cursing under his breath all the way, it sounded like.

“Ow-- _ hey,”  _ Clint shouted and instinctively ran after him. Something looked familiar about that device... But the kid was fast. So fast that if Clint lost sight of him, he wasn't sure he could catch up. Still, he had longer legs, so after a solid couple of minutes of sprinting, dodging around corners and obstacles, he managed to grab the back of the kid’s jacket, making sure to hold tighter this time.

Except that still wasn’t enough--before Clint knew it, he blocked a groin kick and failed to block a face strike that possibly broke his nose, and the kid was off again like he wasn’t even tired. Clint was the one to curse under his breath this time, but he didn’t even bother trying to chase him down with a bloody nose--just pulled his collapsible bow out of its discreet sheath across his back, snapped it open, nocked a specialty arrow, and shot, all within 5 seconds.

Before the kid could get to the end of the alley he’d led them down, slim ropes wrapped tightly around his body, and he went down hard. Hawkeye winced and jogged over to him, and the kid managed to roll onto his back before he got there, but couldn’t do more than struggle in his bonds.

“Stop trying to move, it makes them go tighter,” Clint advised. Against the kid's fierce glare and bared teeth he just stowed his bow and crossed his arms. “Well,  _ sorry _ , but you weren’t exactly cooperating, and we can’t have kids running around breaking into dangerous places with--hang on,” and he bent down to where the kid’s arm was bound tight to his body and managed to extract the device he’d glimpsed earlier from his sleeve. He half-expected the kid to try and claw the hell out of his arm, but he’d gone still as a statue, just glaring at him balefully and not saying a word.

It only took one look to confirm Clint’s instinct. This was Shield tech, if he wasn’t very much mistaken, which he was a Shield agent, so no. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d used a version of this before. This was definitely not the kind of thing a freaking  _ kid _ should be able to get his hands on, let alone use. “Where did you get this?” Clint asked incredulously, but the kid didn’t seem to be willing to do anything but try to kill him with the power of his fiery glare.

Clint sighed again and scratched his head. “I can already tell you are going to be huge trouble,” he informed the kid, “But believe it or not I am not in this to make your life hard, or whatever. It’s just, this is some really intense stuff, and I don’t think--”

He was interrupted by an intense scoffing noise and no break in the stone mask of fury the kid’s face had become. 

He tried again. “All I need is for you to tell me what you were doing with--” He was interrupted again, this time by the barest glint of some sharp object the kid was trying to use to cut through the bola ropes.

“Fuck it,” Clint decided. He swung his quiver around, rummaged in it a little, found what he was looking for and pressed the tip of a tranquilizer arrow to him. The small form relaxed, and Clint looked up to realize he was standing in an alley over a tied-up, unconscious child with no real way to transport him and not even a great idea of what he was supposed to do with him anyway. “I’m just not good with kids,” he announced plaintively to the alley. No response.

Sighing wasn’t really helping him today, but he tried it again anyway as he pulled out his phone and called in backup. It was dusk, he needed to take this indoors.

Natasha picked up quickly like she almost always did. Too quickly, actually, for Clint to have gathered his thoughts enough to explain this. “Heyyyy, Nat,” he said, trying to buy time, and wiping some blood from under his nose.

“What did you do?” Natasha immediately accused.

“Hey! Why do you assume everything is my fault? It was this  _ kid’s _ fault, and I was just--”

“A  _ kid? _ Really, Clint?” Natasha interjected.

“No no no, well yes, but he was trying to break into a mafia building, okay, and also I think he has Shield tech, and he’s also kind of--like--weirdly competent--”

“Did he beat you up?” Natasha asked, deeply unimpressed.

“No! Well, only a little. One hit! But I’m telling you, Nat, this is not a normal kid. He didn’t say a word when I bola arrow’d him, but then--”

“Wait a moment,” Natasha interrupted,  _ again _ . “Are you telling me you’re just standing over a tied-up kid in some godforsaken alley near a Mafia base?”

“Yeah,” Clint said in a small voice. “I was hoping I could get a ride maybe?”

There was a long silence. Clint pictured Natasha’s most elaborate eye roll of frustration. “A car will be there in 10.”

“Okay, I’m at the corner of--” the phone beeped at Clint, showing the call ended, then beeped again, to notify him the locator had activated. “Aw, phone,” Clint said. Then he looked back to the kid.

He was kind of cute when he was sleeping. He had black, messy hair, tan skin

Clint dragged him closer to the side of the alley, being careful of his head. Hopefully, no one would see them for just ten minutes, and then they could get to the tower, and then it wouldn’t be only his problem. 

Luckily, no one showed up in the alley until Natasha got there in the nondescript sedan she usually preferred to take out of Tony’s car pool. She didn’t get out to help as he opened the back door and carefully got the kid inside, still tied up, but at least she didn’t start yelling at him the second he got in the passenger seat, just regarded him coolly from behind her stylish sunglasses, which should be ridiculous since the sun was going down.

“So he was breaking into a mob building?” she asked.

“Yeah, believe me, I was surprised too. He looks about ten years old, but he could run damn fast, and he knows something about fighting. Plus,” Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out the device that had been on the kid, “He was using this.”

Natasha glanced at both the kid and the device as she pulled smoothly out of the alley and headed towards Avengers Tower. “I would say closer to twelve,” she commented on the first. “We’ll show it to Stark.”

“Okay,” Clint said, relieved. He had briefly wondered if Natasha would want to bring this to Shield, but he didn’t want to get this kid involved in anything that might potentially ruin his life, and the Avengers could handle this without anything like that.

Natasha gave him a look like she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t underestimate him just because of his age. I was an agent by 12.”

That shut Clint up, like it always did when Natasha brought up her past. After a few minutes, she asked, “How long does the tranquilizer last?”

Clint shrugged. “Usually around half an hour, probably longer because he weighs less than the usual target.”

Natasha hummed non-committedly, her eyes on the rear-view mirror looking into the back seat.

“What?” said Clint and turned to look. The kid was still laying there, nothing different.

“He twitched,” Natasha said quietly. “ He’ll wake up soon if he hasn’t already.”

“It’s only been 20 minutes!” Clint protested.

Natasha just shrugged and accelerated. “You should probably give him another dose if we’re going to get him into the Tower quietly.”

Clint looked at the kid. It didn’t  _ seem _ like he was waking up. He reached back and knocked on the kid's knee, and sure enough, there was a jerk, swiftly controlled. Clint looked up to meet furious green eyes once again. “Sorry, kid,” he said, taken aback. “I guess this looks kind of sketchy, but we’re just taking you to a couple of our friends. We’re good guys, promise.”

“I know exactly who you are. Let me go, now, and I won’t hold it against you,” the kid said in a low dark voice that just about startled Clint out of his seat. It was the first time he’d heard the kid’s voice. 

“First we need some answers, and then yeah, we’ll let you go,” Clint reasoned. “Like, what were you doing at that building, and how did you get this?” He waved the device in the air. “Oh, right, and who are you?”

The kid snorted impressively. “He’s naive, isn’t he?” he commented, apparently to Natasha, who let a single eyebrow raise.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Clint sputtered, and hit the kid with another tranquilizer arrow right as they turned into the Tower’s underground garage.

Natasha’s lip twitched. That was all, yet somehow Clint heard  _ You had to tranq a kid because you couldn’t think of a comeback. _

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I just didn’t want to have to wrestle him into the building.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a little dialogue heavy; turns out it's hard to get like 5 more people involved without a lot of talking. The action will definitely pick up next chapter.

Say what you will about Tony--Clint certainly has--but when something interesting is happening, especially in his tower, he is there. “So we’re kidnapping now? Is that a thing?” he asked casually from the garage doorway, sipping from a coffee mug. Clint, meanwhile, was carrying the deadweight of an unconscious kid over his shoulder, trying not to knock him into anything. He wasn’t heavy, but he was unwieldy.

“Gee, Tony, I don’t know, is  _ this _ a thing?” Clint grunted and pushed the device he’d found into Tony’s chest while going through the doorway past him.

“The kid’s been trained by someone serious,” Natasha informed Tony, and waited to see what he was making of the...

“Codebreaker, looks like,” he muttered, largely ignoring what she’d said, though she knew he’d processed it. “My design, but it should be confidential still, only the really big agencies should have them right now...”

He was already prying a piece off the back of it, so Natasha followed after Clint. “Jarvis, tell Dr. Banner we’d like his assistance in the medical room? And hold the elevator.”

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff,” Jarvis replied promptly.

When she got to the elevator, Clint was getting the slightly wide-eyed look that meant he was out of his comfort zone, and that comfort zone included shooting people and leaping off collapsing buildings and not carrying unconscious unknown children. She pressed the button for floor 83 and turned to him.

“We’ll take him to the medical area for Bruce to check out, where he will be secure and comfortable,” she said quietly and confidently as the elevator went up. “Stark is already looking into the device, he said it should only be in upper government agencies’ hands right now. This kid could be in some trouble, and we need to figure it out.”

The elevator was fast enough that that was all the patter it took before the doors swished open and Natasha led the way to the medical room. Clint laid the kid on a bed in there, and Natasha sent him out to get Steve while she cut the kid out of the bola cords and put him in the velcro restraints.

That all being done, she took a step back and observed the kid.

Part middle-eastern, probably, based on skin and bone structure, but not completely. She hadn’t seen him fight yet, but the way he was able to control himself while waking up in a strange moving vehicle definitely indicated some agent training or at least hard experience. Or both. He had a lot of muscle, for a kid.

She checked his pockets for an ID or something that would tell them more; she found several shuriken, fifty dollars, and nothing else. No phone, no wallet, no bus ticket, even. If someone had sent this kid on a mission like this, they considered him disposable.

“Hey, doc,” she said when she heard Bruce enter the room behind her, and turned to meet him. “Nobody’s hurt, but I was hoping you could do a basic scan of our patient here, and maybe explain why tranquilizers are only half as effective on him as they should be?”

Bruce gave her a distracted nod as he circled around her, brow furrowing. “Well, high resistance to tranquilizers could be due to higher weight, or...” his eyebrows raised as he saw the kid, “Since that’s obviously not the case here, I’d have to say... could be a built-up resistance from being tranquilized often, or, of course, some strange unheard of ability.” His voice was characteristically dry.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Natasha conceded. “Would you be able to tell if there was something like that?” Bruce already had a couple scanners out, and he was rolling over another small, cutting-edge machine to scan from the side of the bed.

“Not... necessarily,” he answered, a little absent minded, looking at a screen, “And as I keep trying to tell all of you, it’s not really my field. But.” After a few more minutes, he looked up again, grimmer. “What I can tell you is, from what I’ve got so far, he’s a perfectly normal human kid, except with a reconstructed spine, several organ replacements, evidence that he’s been shot in the chest before, and of many past bone fractures.”

“So, not very normal, but human,” mused Natasha.

Bruce took off his glasses and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “You could say that. Where did we get this kid, and can we make sure not to put him back?”

“Clint found him trying to break into a building owned by the mob, with Stark tech,” said Natasha.

Bruce looked at her, reminded briefly of their first meeting. “You said they start them young, I guess.” Natasha looked away, and Bruce felt a twinge of guilt. That was the moment that Steve decided to show up, which provided enough distraction for both of them.

“Hi, guys,” he greeted, as awkward as he ever tended to be outside of a crisis, “Clint said there was a kid here, but he didn’t really explain--?” He stopped when he saw the kid. “Why is he restrained? I thought Clint said he’d tranquilized him?”

“He may wake up earlier than predicted,” Natasha explained, outwardly patient, “And in any case, when he does wake up, he’s not going to be cooperative.”

Steve looked doubtfully at the seemingly slight figure on the oversized medical bed. “Well, sure, but--is this really necessary?”

“Steve, all the evidence we have right now says he’s a potential enemy agent, unless the US government has taken to recruiting eight-year-olds. He’s not just a potential flight risk, he could be dangerous,” said Natasha.

“To us?” asked Steve, looking even more dubious.

Natasha just looked at him. “One of the biggest reasons child agents can be used is because they are easily underestimated. And even if he wouldn’t present a serious danger to us, he could be a danger to himself in trying.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “You really think he’s nine?” he asked quietly, after a moment.

“No, I would guess around twelve. But he’s obviously been training, if not in active service, for years, based on the medical history Bruce’s scans show.”

They all looked at the kid for a minute.

“Where did Clint go?” Bruce asked Steve.

Steve looked behind himself, confused. “Oh--I don’t know, I thought he was coming.”

Natasha said nothing, unsurprised. She had no doubt Clint was nearby, but he had a strong guilt complex and no doubt preferred someone else deciding what to do. Just in time to chip in on that, as always, here came Tony.

“Hey, guys. How’s the kid?” he asked, ambling in, hands in his pockets.

“Okay, I guess,” said Bruce, glancing at the others. “Except that he’s gone through more major injuries in his life than most soldiers.”

“Geeze,” said Tony, “Well that makes about as much sense as everything else, I guess. That thing Clint pushed at me?” he addressed Natasha now, “It’s definitely Stark tech. The serial number’s been filed off, but I hacked into the data cache--whatever, you don’t care, but bottom line, looks like it’s only been used once, presumably when Clint saw it being used, but Jarvis is checking that right now, so. Anyway.”

“So, where did he get it?” asked Steve.

Tony nodded at him, looking a little annoyed. “Exactly. With no serial number, I can’t just look up what agency it was sold to. Usually there’s a data tag, as well, but it’s been scrubbed. And I would be able to see where or on what it’s been used, but since it’s only been used once, we have pretty much nothing to go off of. Someone very smart didn’t want anyone to be able to track it back to them.”

“Great,” Steve said. “I’ll guess we’ll just... have to ask the kid, when he wakes up.”

“Which will probably be soon,” Bruce contributed helpfully from the background.

Natasha cocked her head. “I don’t think he’ll be very cooperative. I doubt we’ll get anything out of him.”

“So, what, we get Shield to come pick him up?” Tony suggested.

Steve turned sharply towards him. “What? You want to turn him over to Shield, knowing nothing about who he is, or what he might be running from--”

“Um, to be clear, he was not found  _ running _ from anything, but in fact using  _ stolen technology _ to  _ break into a building _ \--”

“Yes, a building owned by mobsters, clearly he’s had a perfectly safe life, especially given the medical evidence

“No, I don’t think he’s had a safe life, but I don’t think he’s exactly likely to be safe either, based on the bloody nose I saw Clint with earlier.”

“Well, maybe that’s not his fault, seeing as he was probably brainwashed from a young age--which he is still at--”

“I am not suggesting he should be locked up, I’m suggesting that maybe, just maybe,  _ we’re _ not the ones who could best help him--”

“And you really think a government agency is the best place for a  _ twelve-year-old _ ?”

“I’m  _ thirteen _ , imbeciles,” came a harsh voice from behind them, startling Steve and Tony out of their argument. They whipped around to face the kid, who was already testing his restraints.

“Okay, so you’re thirteen,” floundered Tony after a second. “What’s your name?”

The kid snorted and turned his head away. “Like I would ever tell you that.”

His accent was strange, Natasha noticed immediately. There was something Arabic to it, so faint only someone trained would really notice, but also a little flat. A city accent, but too well trained to be strong, maybe.

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you,” she said quietly, and the kid’s head swiveled to her, wary.

“Maybe,” he said, still insolent. Playing the motherly card wouldn’t work with this one.

Natasha tried another angle. “Whoever sent you can’t have valued you much, sending you out like this. No ID? No gun? No backup? Seems like you’re disposable to them.”

The kid looked away, like some part of that had hit, but sneered “I don’t use  _ guns _ ,” scornfully. “And you don’t know anything  _ about _ me.”

“I know you’ve been highly trained,” Natasha listed calmly, “I know you have high-quality black market tech. I know you have intel on the owners of the building you attempted to infiltrate. I know you’re no longer a child. I know what it’s like to be trained and used as a tool almost since birth.”

“I am not a tool,” the kid said immediately, but there was more respect as well as speculation in his gaze towards her. “But I am also not a child.”

Natasha nodded to him. “Then you know that we can’t simply let you go after finding you with illegal tech, committing a crime.”

The kid pulled at his bonds, restless. “I’m  _ not _ a criminal,” he grumbled. “ _ Those _ people are the criminals.”

“You were using stolen tech,” Tony broke in impatiently. “ _ My _ stolen tech, by the way.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “Yes, to help fight criminals in  _ your _ city. You should be grateful.”

“Thanks,” said Steve wryly while Tony sputtered indignantly, “But I generally like to know  _ who _ is working in my city. If you tell us who you work for, and why they want a presence here, we’d feel a lot more comfortable letting you go.” Natasha could tell that he was lying to some degree, but Steve could be a surprisingly good liar when he really believed it was for the best.

The kid studied him for a moment, then yanked against the restraints again. “I don’t think you have any intentions of letting me go. I can’t help but wonder if you’d treat a crime-fighting adult this way.” He let his eyes trail meaningfully over each of them. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.” He turned his head to look out the window, as if unwilling to converse anymore.

“We’re trying to help you,” Steve burst out in frustration. “We know about your past injuries, okay? Whoever you work for, we can help you get out of it!”

The kid’s head slowly turned back. “My past injuries,” he said in a flat voice, almost but not quite a question.

“Spine reconstruction, organ replacement, gunshot wound, broken bones,” Bruce contributed quietly. “Not the kinds of things a kid like you should go through.”

The kids' eyes narrowed. He had paled a little at the list of major injuries but seemed to be covering it with cold anger. “You probably have never known a ‘kid’ like me.” 

Privately, Natasha thought that was probably true of most of the Avengers.

“No kid deserves that,” Bruce said quietly, “Or person, for that matter.”

“Yes, well,” the kid said bluntly, “Life isn’t fair. It’s just a hazard of the job, like being scanned without my consent." He glared at Bruce. "I’ve probably survived more than all of you can imagine.”

“The  _ job? _ That’s the problem! You shouldn’t have a job, you’re thirteen! Let alone a job fighting crime, or spying, or whatever it is you do!” Steve exclaimed.

The kid looked torn between disgust and disdain. “You clearly do not spend time outside of your city. People are right about you. You’re oblivious. And yes, I suppose it’s not a  _ job _ \--I was born into it. It’s my inheritance.”

“People say we’re oblivious. What people?” said Tony, highly skeptical, and ignoring what Natasha thought was far more interesting information.

“People like  _ us. _ ” When there was no response, the kid rolled his eyes and looked out the window again. “You don’t know anything.”

No matter what they tried, they couldn’t get much more out of him. Steve was at a loss for what to do with him, and Tony still wanted to just make it Shield’s problem, but when Clint came back out of the woodwork he was definitively opposed to that. Natasha got the feeling he wished he hadn’t brought the kid in, maybe just stopped him from breaking into a dangerous building and let him go on his way.

“It’s not like we know how to help him,” he said to Natasha later, in a different room. “Honestly, I think we should just let the kid go.”

Natasha shrugged. “Probably. But you and I understand how quickly it is possible to grow up; Steve and Tony don’t, not in the same way.”

Clint nodded at that and stared into the mug he was holding.

“In any case,” said Natasha, “The kid hasn’t seemed unduly distressed. He seems quite confident he will be leaving soon in any case.”

Clint gave her a weird look. “Yeah, but how likely is that? With Stark’s security and him in four-point restraints?”

Natasha shrugged again. She recognized something in the boy that made her believe what he said, though she was equally confident he was extremely arrogant most of the time. “Anyway, if he does escape, we’ll have a clean conscience,” she said pragmatically.

“Yeah,” Clint said darkly, “And what does it say about us that a kid has to escape us? If he can,” he added, glumly.

 

In the medical room, Damian was finally left alone. All he had to do was speak rudely enough to the doctor they all called Bruce (and wasn’t that strange) that he went away. Then, with his tongue, he carefully activated the tiny emergency transmitter attached to the side of one of his molars.

After only a couple of moments, a voice came through. “ _ Wow, I wasn’t sure you would ever actually use this. You must be pretty desperate.” _ The voice quality was a little odd, the sound softly vibrating through his skull rather than right in his ear, but very discernable.

“If by ‘desperate’ you mean the Avengers found me and brought me in for questioning...” Damian muttered, “...fine, Drake, yes. I need your help.”

The voice sharpened considerably. “ _ Okay, first of all? It’s codenames-only on comms, I know you know this, stop ‘forgetting.’ And second of all? Wow. You are going to be in so much trouble. _ ”

“Just come get me, will you? And don’t tell anyone else yet,” said Damian.

“ _ Fine. Tracking your location now. But you’re going to owe me one.” _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the bros show, with promised action!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Red Robin's costume--got to say, I never liked the cowl, so I'm going with the newer costume.
> 
> And about Red Hood--in this story, I'd say he's on uneasy terms with most of the batfamily, and he does care about his brothers. But more motives for him showing up will turn up later.
> 
> Thanks for everyone's feedback! It's been really encouraging. I hope you like this chapter; if so, let me know! :)

No one could really agree on what to do, so the decision was essentially put off until the morning, helped along by Clint and Natasha. Most of the Avengers went to bed. Clint decided to sit in the vents above the medical room. The kid looked asleep, but he definitely had the skills to fake it, and Clint wanted to keep an eye on him. If he did escape, Clint wouldn’t interfere at all, but if he just disappeared while Clint was in bed, anyone could have taken him.

He still wasn’t sure how possible either possibility was, but the odds went up when the power suddenly cut out in the room, and tiny lights on devices throughout the room blinked out. He didn’t move a muscle, just waited. The moon was out, so even in the darkness he could see the shine on the kids’ open eyes, looking towards the window.

There was a quiet thunk, and a silhouette appeared at the window. A few more small noises and the window was--open? Clint didn’t think that window could be opened. Had he cut the glass? It was difficult to tell in the low light.

Either way, the figure was in and crossing the room. He was wearing a mask, and a cape, it looked like, but he still looked young somehow. He went straight to the bed with the kid, and Clint tensed but didn’t act. When the masked guy spoke, his voice confirmed his young age; he was probably a teenager.

“Wow,” said the teen. “You’ve genuinely impressed me with how bad a situation you’ve gotten yourself into. Great job. I can only imagine what Nightwing will say, let alone B--”

 _Codenames_ , Clint thought, but he had never heard of Nightwing. The kid interrupted too quickly for him to hear the second name.

“Shut _up,_ ” said the kid, savagely. “You will tell them _nothing,_ or I will tear out your entrails. I am perfectly able to get myself out of here alone.”

That was a load of crap, Clint thought, but definitely in line with the attitude he’d displayed so far.

The teen allowed a significant pause. “Hmm. Well, as wonderfully as that’s clearly going, I had to get big brother to think you asked me to pick you up from the ‘field trip’ that was apparently your crappy cover story, he obviously thinks you’re secretly visiting some girl, although what girl would put up with you is beyond my imagination.”

Big Brother. Was that the codename that had been interrupted before, or something new, or an actual brother? These two definitely bickered like they were family.

“The girl _was_ the cover story,” the kid hissed. “You know how idiotic he gets about things like that, I knew he wouldn’t look further.”

The teen inclined his head. “Alright, good point. If you really don’t want me to tell them, we can make a deal later, but first things first is getting out of here. Who do these people think you are, anyway?”

The kid looked down and away, almost pouting. “I haven’t told them anything. The one with the arrows saw me attempting to infiltrate Falcone’s expansion here, and seeing as I wasn't allowed to bring any of my actual equipment--”

Falcone. That was a new name for Natasha to check out later.

“Hawkeye caught you,” the teen said flatly. “Did they get any evidence off of you?”

“Some scans, nothing that can’t be deleted,” the kid said, then hesitated. “Also... one of the new codebreakers. Not ours!” he defended himself when the teen was about to respond, “Stark tech.” He snorted in disdain.

Either the kid seriously underestimated the Avenger’s technical security, or they were connected with some very skilled technical people.

The teen blew out a breath. “Okay. That’s probably handleable. We’ll have to get Oracle in on it, but for a really stupid stunt, at least you didn’t make a mess.” Clint couldn’t see expressions from where she was, but silence from the kid was probably as good as acquiescence.

He rapidly opened the velcro restraints and hauled the younger boy out of the bed. “Why were they keeping you in a bed?” he asked.

“They brought me in tranquilized,” the kid said flatly, “And they seemed to think I was delicate, for some idiotic reason.”

The teen appeared to hunch slightly with contained laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Delicate. You. Yeah, that’s pretty idiotic. Seems like B was right about them.”

A single letter was not much to go on, Clint knew, but it was another potential codename. Apparently, the kid was insinuating earlier about some kind of rumor going out about the Avengers. This must be related.

“That they’re ignorant? Entirely,” said the kid. The teen was handing him bits of equipment that were impossible to identify in the dimness, and the kid was strapping them on or tucking them away like it was second nature. The teen smoothed something onto the kid’s face, another domino mask, looked like.

“Yeah, for superheroes, they’re not really aware of the ‘scene,’ I don’t think,” mused the teen. “Well. Let’s get out of here.”

They were both turning to the exit when the power came back on. “Damn it,” the teen said, sounding alarmed, “We should have had at least five more minutes.”

Before they could take another step, Iron Man appeared, landing in the opening with repulsors threatening to fire. “Freeze, punks,” he said, voice changed by the armor.

Of course, they didn’t freeze. The second they saw Iron Man there was some kind of burst of smoke, and they seemed to disappear. From Clint’s perspective he could see them bolt in the opposite direction, headed for the stairs, and it looked like Iron Man was using his thermal vision because he headed after them after only a slight pause.

“Aw, Tony,” Clint said, and dropped out of the ceiling to sprint after them all. He tapped on the earbud he had worn just in case, that was for emergencies only: “Natasha, someone came for the kid, non-hostile as far as I could see, but Tony’s not happy and in pursuit. I’m following,” he said while running.

Meanwhile, the tight corners, small doorways, and dim light were making it harder for Tony to maneuver. It wasn’t a problem with the armor, of course not, but human reflexes could only move so fast. He began swearing viciously under his breath (not out of the armor) while he chased the damn problem child and his break-in-artist friend. And how had be been able to hack the power, by the way? “Jarvis, how did they get past our security measures?” he demanded.

 _“It appears there is an experienced hacker at work, sir,”_ Jarvis said in sophisticated tones. “ _They were only able to turn off power in one section and made it appear like a maintenance request to the system. Only I noticed there was no maintenance scheduled, which is why I woke you, sir.”_

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Tony said. “Man, I hate these people. Stealing my stuff, breaking into my tower--” he reached a more open corridor and put on a burst of speed, coming up behind the two running figures.

He made a grab for the smaller one, but the kid dodged almost supernaturally fast. Tony grunted in frustration and tried for a repulsor blast against the other one, but the intruder ducked and pulled the kid through the door to the emergency stairwell, the door slamming behind them.

 

Clint was doing his best to follow, but when everyone disappeared down the stairwell, there was no chance he could keep up. He heaved a sigh, shrugged, and just walked to the elevator. He clicked the button for the ground floor and waited as the door slowly closed. Soft music started playing and he tapped his foot as the elevator started moving.

 

“Fucker,” said Iron man, and punched through the door. He couldn’t see the pair running down the stairs. There was a grapnel anchor in the ceiling with a dark line dropping down the center of the stairwell. He looked over the edge, and sure enough, they were sliding rapidly down the rope through the levels.

Tony sighed and seriously considered just cutting the rope there, but instead flew over the railing in pursuit. “Stop messing up my tower!” he called after them and saw two dark heads look up at him. In the light of the stairwell, he could see that one of them was wearing a mask and something like a cross between wings and a cape on his back.

Seeing him gaining on them in the open space again, the masked one did some tricky flipping maneuver that got him and the kid over the rail. Tony took another shot at him with the repulsors but it reflected harmlessly off the wing-cape on his back, and by the time Tony got there they were out the door and into a new level. “Who _are_ these guys,” he complained, and followed.

 

Clint was still in the elevator, now singing softly along with the music.

 

They were back in a labyrinth of darkened halls and doors, and Iron man was struggling to keep up with the dark figures, who were not only moving quickly but clinging to the shadows wherever they went. This was one of the office floors he wasn’t as familiar with, and once he even made a wrong turn and had to back-track. If he didn’t have his thermal vision, he definitely would have lost them by now.

They seemed to be heading for another stairway, now--and how did they know the building layout so well?--and all Tony could do was follow them, although he had fallen back a little ways. When he made it to the stairs, there was no sign of them that he could see, until he flew down and saw them disappear into yet another level.

“Aren’t they tired yet?” He asked himself plaintively. “I’m tired, and I’m not even running.”

 

Clint’s elevator finally stopped at ground floor and he stepped out to see the two dark figures run into the lobby. He instinctively took a step towards them but was stopped by the click of a gun being cocked. Iron man swooshed in, repulsors blasting, but was also checked--not with a mere click, but with a gunshot. A bullet ricocheted with a spark off his armor, the force knocking him back, and he landed.

“Uh,” said Clint. The elevator doors rumbled close.

Everyone looked at the new player on the floor--a man with some kind of red helmet that covered his face stood there, two large guns cocked and at the ready, pointed at Clint and Tony. He was wearing a leather jacket over some kind of sculpted body armor, with some kind of red symbol on the chest, obscured by his raised arms. He jerked his head at the other two figures and they walked over to stand by him.

Clint could see the teen clearly now, in the lit room. He was wearing a mask, and his--costume? uniform?-- was black and red. He had yellow gadget belts draped across him and a... cape? That resembled bird wings. Clint wondered if it was functional

The man in the helmet spoke, and his voice was younger than Clint had expected. “Shoot at my brothers again, and you’ll regret it. Just stay there, for now.”

Tony’s mask came off, revealing his face. “Whoa, okay, okay,” he said. “Staying here.” Clint was glad to hear it. Iron man might be fine with bullets, but Clint did not need a gunshot wound.

The masked teen had looked kind of shocked at the ‘brothers’ comment, but now he was speaking in hushed tones to the red-symbol-helmet guy.

 

“Jason,” Red Robin hissed to the back of Red Hood’s head, making sure to be quiet enough that the two Avengers wouldn’t hear. “What are you doing here?”

“Apparently saving your ass,” Jason growled back quietly. “And use codenames in the field, idiot.” Damian snickered evilly, for some reason.

“These are the Avengers, Hood!” said Tim, ignoring him. “You can’t just shoot them!”

“They don’t know that,” said Jason, infuriatingly. “Besides, I might. Just not permanently.”

 

The ‘brothers’ were having a hissed conversation that Clint couldn’t hear, but the two guns never wavered an inch.

“How did you even get here so fast?” Tony hissed to Clint out of the corner of his mouth, scandalized.

“I took the elevator,” Clint said under his breath.

“Figures,” grumped Tony. “I don’t suppose anyone else is on the way?”

“I don’t know, I tried to contact Natasha, but she hasn’t answered yet, I think she might be--”

“Shut up!” said the man with the guns who was apparently paying attention again. “Look, I’m not a very unreasonable guy. Usually.” Both of his brothers snorted. “All we wanna do is leave. So you stay there, keep your hands where they are, we walk out backwards, easy as that.”

“Yeah, we’re totally fine with that, actually,” Clint reassured him.

Then a black blur dropped out of the ceiling to land on helmet guy’s shoulders, and in the same instant there was a knife pressed into his throat where the helmet ended.

“Actually, not so much,” said Natasha.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Avengers, and some of the Batkids, size each other up. More of each party may show up later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! The next chapter! It did take me a little longer to shake out some kinks in this one... but I think it was worth taking the time over. I hope? It's a little dialogue heavy again, but again, there's more action planned for the next one, so maybe it's just a pattern. I know some people wanted the Avengers and Batkids to fight, but it honestly wouldn't have been a smart decision for either side without learning more. But hey... there's always the future. *wink*
> 
> BTW, I want to thank you guys for the amazing support I've gotten for this fic! I love it a lot. :)

“But Natasha, our plan,” said Clint plaintively.

“Sorry, Clint,” said Natasha, easily balanced on red helmet guy’s shoulders. Her knife was steady. “I would have let them leave, but... there are too many questions now. And this one pulled a gun.”

“You had a plan to let known intruders and thieves escape my tower?” asked Tony. “What the hell?”

“Technically,” Natasha said placatingly, “Only one of them is an intruder and one of them a thief.”

“I am not some common thief,” the kid said in a superior tone. He was wearing a mask, now, but somehow the glare still came through. Now that was talent. “So, what has he done this time? _”_

“Myeah, sorry, but I can’t exactly recognize you from this angle,” said helmet guy sarcastically. To his credit, though, the guns were still perfectly steady.

“This does make it difficult to have a civil conversation,” Natasha mused. “You drop your guns, I drop my knife.”

Helmet guy looked as if he was considering it. “Am I supposed to believe that’s your only knife?”

“Am I supposed to believe those are your only guns?” Natasha retorted, and after another long moment, helmet guy clicked the safeties on and let the guns clatter to the floor. True to her word, Natasha dropped the knife, then jumped lightly to land between Clint and Tony and... whoever these people were.

“Oh,” said helmet guy, tilting his head. “...Nope, still have no idea who the fuck you are.”

Natasha gave him a cool look. “We haven’t met.”

“Oh,” the guy said again and shifted uncomfortably. “So it’s just a... hate on sight kind of a deal?”

“Happened to me,” muttered Damian almost inaudibly.

“No,” Natasha said pointedly. “I make it a point to know all the players in the field. Particularly those who shoot at my team. I believe introductions are in order.” Her voice was firm; she was not planning to take ‘no’ for an answer.

The three strangers exchanged glances, the youngest folding his arms over his chest. The middle one shrugged after a moment and faced Natasha. “Smart. I’m Red Robin.” He jerked his head at the smaller one, then the larger one, “That’s Robin, and that’s...” he sighed, long-sufferingly, “Red Hood. We didn’t invite him here,” he said, gesturing with his arms as though saying _What can you do?_

Somehow, Clint could tell that Red Hood was rolling his eyes, which was impressive given his eyes weren’t visible. He didn’t say anything, though.

“You don’t get along very well,” Natasha remarked.

Red Robin snorted. “If by that you mean, they’ve both tried to kill me before, yeah. That’s absolutely true.”

The small one turned and snarled, “That was a long time ago. Besides, you should have had the skills to defend yourself.”

Likewise, Red Hood turned defensive. “Yeah, c’mon, we were both kind of Al-Ghul-ified when that happened. It wasn’t like stable mental health time.” He was clearly trying to pass it off lightly, but his voice was just slightly too stiff.

Natasha’s eyebrows rose the bare inch that meant she was very surprised, but Tony was already chiming in. “What’s with all the... masks and stuff, anyway?”

They looked at him sidelong. “Well,” said Red Hood with false patience, “I know you’re not really familiar with this concept, but _some_ people sometimes go undercover, or have a secret identity, or don’t want people who know them to be targeted, or have their house blown up--”

Tony was scowling and soon interrupted, “Yeah, whatever, there’s pros and cons. But why are you on, like, motorcycle helmet level, instead of, I don’t know, masquerade level, here? Severe disfigurement?”

In response, Red Hood reached up and pulled the helmet off, revealing... another mask, more like the ones the other two wore. His hair was also black, but with a strange white streak in front, and he was smirking. “Mostly protection, these days. And the intimidation factor.”

“A mask under the mask,” said Clint under his breath. “Of course. There’s probably a third one under there too.”

Natasha apparently heard him; her lip twitched, and Clint felt the smug triumph he always felt when he made ‘Tasha laugh. Or, well, her equivalent of laughing.

Tony wasn’t done yet. “And wait, you guys are called Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood? Confusing, much? What, are you all part of a franchise, need similar branding?”

Red Hood snorted. “You _could_ say that.”

Red Robin sighed and ran a gloved hand through his hair. “More like we’re... related. In convoluted and inconvenient ways.”

“It’s not that convoluted,” Red Hood dismissed with a wave, “There’s just the one supreme dictator.” His voice was bitter.

“So says the black sheep,” Robin retorted.

“Wait wait wait,” Tony interrupted, his voice faintly horrified, “It’s a _family business?_ Is that what you’re telling me?”

Red Robin shook his head. “It’s not a _business,_ it’s not like we make money off of it or anything--the opposite. It’s more like a...” he paused and seemed to be searching for a word.

“I swear, if you say, like, _calling_ , or destiny, or some shit like that, I am going to throw up,” grumbled Red Hood.

“It’s a responsibility,” Red Robin finally concluded, glaring at him.

“A _family business,_ ” Tony repeated, evidently stuck on that idea.

Clint huffed impatiently. “Whatever, Tony. You get all touchy-feely with the Avengers, too--we live together. You’re basically trying to make _us_ into a family business.”

“Well, kinda,” Tony admitted, “But I’m not making kids join up!”

Red Robin looked at him sharply--Tony had touched a sore spot. “Hey, none of us were forced into this. We _chose_ it. We practically had to force our way in, none of us were raised to it. Well, except him,” he jerked a thumb at the kid, “But that wasn’t by our... father. That was by his mother, and she’s kind of, well, evil.” Everyone noticed the odd pause before the word father, but no one commented.

“Don’t talk about my mother,” hissed Robin, but looked down and away as though ashamed. “She was only educating me in my heritage. It made me strong. It was for my own good.” The words had the sound of an old mantra, like he was trying to convince himself, not Red Robin, who only pressed his lips together and was silent.

“Al Ghul,” Natasha said, almost out of the blue. “I have heard this name before.” Her eyes were focused on a distant memory. “ _The head of the demon,”_ she said in Russian, almost to herself.

She looked... either nervous or unsure. Both options put Clint very much on his guard. When Tony made a ‘huh?’ noise, she added in English, “The League of Assassins.” After a moment of consideration, Red Robin simply nodded.

She shook her head. “But it’s a story, a legend.”

“Those are the things that have the most power,” Robin said, a little disdainfully. “Great pains are taken to make sure it stays that way.”

Red Hood shifted a little uncomfortably. “Yeah, about those assholes... they may or may not be going to show up sometime in the near future.”

There was an expectant pause, then Tim decided this might be a conversation best had without onlookers and stepped around Jason to briefly close them out. “Excuse us for a minute,” he said politely. Sometimes he felt like he got more polite around Damian and Jason, just to balance their complete abrasiveness.

“ _Very_ specific,” Damian hissed at Jason sarcastically when he had the chance. “What are you talking about?”

“Wait, does this have to do with why you tracked us? Because if they’re following you, thanks a lot,” said Tim.

“They’re not following me!” said Jason. “Just... you know. Lots of very vague threats. And since I’m, you know, somewhat reconciled with the ‘family’ now...”

“You thought they’d come after us,” Tim finished the thought.

Jason shrugged. “It’s what Ra's tried to do to you. He does tend to repeat himself.”

“It is the most obvious target,” Damian informed him clinically. “Although Grandfather should have realized by now it is a failing strategy.”

“But how did you know where we were, anyway?” Tim asked, still suspicious.

Jason shrugged. “I casually asked Nightwing where you guys were, he mentioned you were in New York, and I traded in a favor with Oracle to narrow it down.”

Tim just stared at him, an expression of horror on his face.

“ _What?”_ Jason and Damian demanded in unison, and gave each other a dirty glare.

Tim swallowed. “You asked. Nightwing. Where we were.”

Jason barely shifted on his feet. He always moved when he was unsettled, it was a tell. “Yeah? So?” He asked, his tone deliberately belligerent.

Tim flung out his arms in frustration. “ _So?_ Just because he trusts you more now doesn’t mean he won’t be curious! In fact, he would come to New York _himself_ if he thought he was missing out on,” Tim’s face wrinkled a little with pure revulsion, “ _brotherly time.”_

Jason’s and Damian’s faces showed their dawning understanding.

“Damn it,” said Damian.

“Language,” Tim and Jason said in unison, and gave each other a dirty glare.

After a moment, Jason sighed heavily. “Well, when you put it that way,” he said glumly, “There’s no way he isn’t on his way here right now.”

 

While Robin and the Red guys were chatting it up privately, presumably about the League of Assassins, the three awake Avengers were having their own conference. “I feel like this just keeps getting more complicated,” Clint complained.

He had no idea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome another character... and a fight breaks out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry this took so long, guys. My muse kind of deserted me... and I really had trouble with the fight scene. I'm still not that happy with it, but I had to get this out there! I'll definitely finish this fic, though. Thanks so much for the comments and support! It means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy! :)

“Is it just me, or do we still know almost literally nothing about them?” Clint said under his breath.

Natasha shrugged. She looked serious and very thoughtful. “We can dig for more information through other means, later. It may not be wise to force them to stay.”

“Why are you guys so intimidated by a bunch of teenagers in costumes?” Tony questioned. It was rude but mostly curious, classic Tony.

Natasha and Clint looked at each other and shrugged. It was a difficult thing to explain, but after years as SHIELD operatives, they had an instinct for serious players, and these people were definitely serious. “It’s never smart to underestimate an opponent, Tony,” said Clint at last, trying to sound wise.

“Okay, enough with the secrets, share with the class,” Tony said loudly, obviously tired of watching the masked youths in their huddle. “What do you mean, some secret assassinating society is gonna show up soon?”

The three brothers’ heads jerked up and they faced him, but Red Robin was the first to talk. “Don’t worry about it, we can take care of our own business.”

“Hey!” Tony protested, “You kind of make it  _ our _ business when you take it to our city.”

Red Robin just nodded. “And we’ll be taking it out of your city, now that we’ve been introduced.” He nodded to Black Widow in acknowledgment of the original desire she had stopped them for and turned to leave, seizing the back of Robin’s shirt to drag him along and deftly dodging the viciously aimed nerve strike the smaller kid used to make him let go. The two started walking for the door with all confidence in the world, and Red Hood, with his helmet tucked under his arm, gave them a grin and a wink before turning after them to do the same.

They were interrupted by the ding, as the elevator rumbled open. The masked teens were instantly on their guard, spinning on their heels with weapons appearing left and right. Tony didn’t even want to  _ know _ where Red Hood had pulled that huge gun out of.

It was Captain America. In his pajamas, it looked like, just sweatpants and a black shirt. “Um,” he said, looking alarmed and not quite awake, though fast becoming so. “Guys? What’s going on?”

“Aww,” Red Hood said glumly. “I always pictured him wearing, like, star-spangled pants to bed, or something.”

“Yeah, I was disappointed the first time too,” sighed Tony. “Check it out, Cap. The brothers red. There’s a whole crime-fighting family, apparently.”

“ _ What? _ ” said Steve, kind of horrified, kind of deeply confused.

“You’ve really fixated on that, haven’t you?” observed Tim, from where he was--kind of far, close to the door, clearly still ready to leave. “Consider seeing a therapist about your deeply rooted family issues.”

Clint winced at that well-aimed blow. Tony’s faceplate clanged shut, but before anyone could do anything rash, there was a thump, and  _ another _ mysterious figure showed up, dropping from the ceiling. This was approaching soap-opera levels of random people showing up. This one was in mostly grey and black, with a swath of blue sweeping across his chest and arms and his own black domino mask and--wait. Clint recognized that costume.

“Hey, guys!” the guy said mildly, standing up from his dropped crouch. “Maybe let’s not antagonize the Avengers in their own tower?”

Not even a moment passed before violence broke out, as Tony shot off several repulsor blasts at Nightwing, breaking the silence. Nightwing dodged faster than Tony knew was possible. “Woah!” he shouted, “I’m not a threat!” but the sound was swallowed up a furious cry from Robin, who sprinted towards Iron Man.

Black Widow was already pulling out a gun and aiming at the black and blue figure, but before she could use it it was shot out of her hand by Red Hood, who was closing quarters fast. She pulled out her Widow’s Bite, but he knocked it out of her hand. In retaliation, she kicked his gun away, and soon they were fighting hand to hand. “ _ No. Shooting. My brother, _ ” he was grunting, and swung wildly at her with the helmet. She mostly dodged, taking a glancing blow across her shoulder, and he dropped it in disgust before coming at her in a flurry of blows that were more careful than they looked. 

Natasha was holding her own without trouble, but she hadn’t fought his fighting style before... it was clearly oriental, but he was also throwing in his own erratic elements--he used his greater weight to push her back, she twisted her body to try to throw him over her hip, but he caught her ankle and soon they were grappling on the ground, leaving him at an advantage.

Robin had almost reached Iron Man--who knew what he was planning to do against that armor--but Red Robin shouted, “Robin! The archer!” The kid looked to see Hawkeye with his bow at the ready, an arrow already leaving the string with a hiss. He dodged and changed directions without hesitating, diving and rolling towards Clint as another arrow hissed by to clatter against the floor.

Red Robin was also sprinting forward, unhooking things from his yellow bandoliers. “Mark!” shouted, a standard warning to his brothers, and there was a blinding flash of light accompanied by a burst of smoke. Most the Avengers were now fighting blind, and Clint yelped. Iron Man, protected by his mask’s lenses, was able to catch and crush a small device thrown at his from out of the smoke, but before he could make another move, Red Robin was on top of him, throwing another device that magnetized to his suit and sent an EMP blast through it, disabling him. Tony grunted, the small bolts of electricity crippling his suit. He started up a furious stream of commands to Jarvis as Red Robin flipped out of reach, throwing a shuriken in another direction with only a glance.

It was expertly aimed at Hawkeye’s bow string but bounced off the metal alloy string--luckily for Clint, who cursed in surprise. It gave Robin the chance to close in. He went for a kick to the groin that Clint barely deflected with his bow, and soon they too were in close hand to hand combat. “What is it with you and trying to kick me in the crotch?” Clint whined breathlessly. Robin didn’t deign to respond. Hawkeye was trying to defend himself without hurting the kid, but it was not easy, and soon he got a nerve jab to the shoulder that made his whole arm tingle painfully.

Nightwing was crouched to make himself a smaller potential target, and thinking rapidly of how best to extricate his brothers from this situation--it was not smart to engage with the Avengers on their own ground, without a plan--and by the way,  _ what had they attacked him for? _ \--and lastly,  _ what the hell were his brothers even doing here? _ It went without saying he was a quick thinker, but the fights around his were happening too lightning-fast for him to get involved with before there was a loud shout.

“AVENGERS!  _ Pull back. _ ” It was Cap, in full-on team leader voice. Clint and Damian traded a couple more blows before Clint leaped back, hands open and bow to the side. Red Hood pinned Black Widow to the floor and smirked slightly before she viciously kneed him in the diaphragm, knocking him off, and rolled to her feet. He coughed violently, but didn’t throw up, which kind of impressed Clint. 

Tony was moving jerkily now, and with great difficulty ripped the device off his shoulder. He sent a glare at Red Robin, but made no move to attack.

The Avengers pulled back towards Steve, the Batkids towards Nightwing, separating carefully and without taking their eyes off each other. Except for Red Hood, who was trying to catch his breath as he stumbled to his feet. 

“What is this about?” Nightwing asked, trying to speak calmly. “I’m pretty sure we should be on the same side.”  

“Are you kidding me?” said Tony, and pointed at Nightwing. “He’s been in this city before, on a killing spree! Were you hoping everyone forgot? He not exactly inconspicuous!”

“ _ What?” _ Steve said, in what was becoming a habit, it seemed like. He looked sharply at Nightwing, possibly regretting his decision to break up the fight.

“Yep,” Natasha said coldly, “He had at least 20 potential kills.”

“Hey, no no no no,” Nightwing protested, “That was him! He just stole my clothes!” He pointed at Red Hood.

“What, they were all bad guys! Criminals, murderers, gang members, what-have-you! Plus, I was slightly brainwashed and suffering the effects of a rude resurrection,” snapped Red Hood. “I never get  _ any _ slack for that.”

“Yes, please tell us yet again about how you died and came back to life,” said Damian, sounding bored.

“Listen here, short stack,” Red Hood snapped, jabbing a finger in his direction, but was interrupted by Nightwing.

“How did this all start, anyway?” Nightwing snapped.”Why are you even here?”

Without hesitation, every single other person in the room pointed right at Damian.

Damian made a sound of pure disgust and frustration, and pointed furiously at Hawkeye, but it was too little, too late. The archer had the moral upper hand.

“I caught him breaking into a mob warehouse,” Clint said virtuously, “With stolen tech. I didn’t hurt him,” he made very sure to add with the kids brothers around, “But I figured it wasn’t the kind of thing anyone should be doing alone, I thought we should check out the stolen tech, and... yeah. I brought him back here.”

_ “Robin, _ ” Nightwing said, crushing disappointment in his voice. “You were supposed to be visiting a  _ girl!” _

Damian tutted, crossing his arms. “Actually, I was supposed to be on a field trip,” he said cuttingly, but without making eye contact.

“But who even  _ are you?”  _ Captain America burst in.

“Let’s just take this upstairs,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Truce, or whatever.”

“Midnight snack?” suggests Clint.

“Coffee,” says Steve, and everyone agrees.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sit in the living room. Tim more perches. The Avengers learn who's their daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I take so long... O.O I'd just rather take my time and do it right than whip out something sucky, you know? And I'm still kind of feeling my way to where I want this story to go. But I WILL finish it, and that's a promise.

The whole group awkwardly piled into the elevator, which was thankfully pretty big, and no one spoke as it made its way to the correct floor. Dick shifted from foot to foot--it was hard for him to stay still sometimes--and Clint took in a breath to say something, but the doors opened again before anyone could do anything and everyone quickly exited, careful not to touch any members of the opposite group.

As they entered the common floor, pretty lavish by any standard, Steve glanced at the young vigilantes for a reaction, but found none. If they were impressed, they didn’t show it. But then, if they were as highly trained as they seemed, they could probably control whatever reactions they would have had.

Natasha, meanwhile, knew better than to look for reactions; instead, she looked at the grouping. It was clear that this ‘Nightwing’ was the leader; the others looked to him, and the youngest especially stayed close to him. Red Robin was on the other side of Nightwing, and Red Hood on the other side of him, maintaining a little more space from his brothers than the others. An outsider, maybe, Natasha thought. Possibly more likely to be willing to inform on the others... but not very. He had shown himself to be very aggressive, probably not cooperative with anyone.

There was some silent maneuvering in the living room before Robin, Nightwing, and Red Hood sat on the edge of the couch on one side of the room; Red Robin, true to his name, perched on the back of the nearest armchair. They all still looked extremely ready for action.

The Avengers, not so much. Natasha sat across from them to keep a sharp eye out, but Tony meandered his way to the kitchen, Clint followed him, hoping for the first mug of coffee, and Steve slumped into his chair in the attitude of one who couldn’t picture a living room as a battlefield. Unseen, Damian gave him a scathing look.

“So,” Steve said awkwardly. He didn’t seem to know how to continue, glancing at Natasha uneasily.

“So,” said Red Hood, sarcastically. “You kidnapped the demon brat.”

“ _Hood,_ ” Nightwing reproached without turning his head. “Actually, Robin was not here on assignment,” he gave Damian a dark look, “And not even in costume. It was clearly a misunderstanding.”

“He has a costume too?” Tony asked speculatively, walking into the room with a robot trailing behind him with a tray full of coffee mugs. He took a sip from his own mug before finding a chair to sit in on the ‘Avengers side’ of the room, while the robot whirred and went around the room to serve everyone. Red Robin took two mugs and finished the first in moments. “And, by the way, ‘costume’? Really? Sounds a little, uh, melodramatic, doesn’t it?”

“This from a man who announced his superhero status to the world, and wears bright red and gold,” Red Robin said dryly. Tony clearly had no defense against that argument, and just shrugged.

“The... outfits, if you prefer, serve a purpose,” Nightwing said reasonably. “They help you seem like more than just a person. They help you serve as a symbol to the innocent, and...” he hesitated.

“And hopefully make the evil fuckers think twice before pulling shit,” Red Hood finished bluntly. “Or make them cower in terror instead of fighting when you show up.”

Robin snorted. “A cowardly, superstitious lot,” he said contemptuously, under his breath. It sounded like he might be quoting something because Red Robin laughed.

Steve was nodding slowly. “I can understand that,” he said, “Serving as a symbol. Trying to inspire people. And... I can see why you’d want to keep your normal life out of it,” he gestured at their masks and looked away.

There was a kind of sympathetic pause before Clint broke the silence from the corner of the room. “So, uh... should we wake up Bruce? If we’re having, like, a social... something?”

The other side of the room twitched at the name Bruce, again, Natasha noticed, then tensed up as if threatened. “We’ve called a truce,” she said in her surest voice. “You don’t attack us, we don’t attack you. Bruce is the last person who wants him to transform.”

Nightwing glanced at his brothers before nodding. “Okay.” He seemed to be holding back a comment but restrained himself to a slight smile to Red Robin. Tim just sent him a short sharp look. Just because he’d read all of Bruce Banner’s papers and articles did not make him a fanboy.

Clint left the room to get Bruce, and there was an awkward silence. Everyone sipped at their coffee simultaneously, and Jason scowled and put his down on the coffee table with a loud clank.

When Bruce and Clint arrived, Bruce looked charmingly rumpled as ever, and a little bewildered, especially when he saw the line-up on the other side of the room. “Ummm....” he started to say but was interrupted by Tony before he could even ask.

“Red Robin, Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin,” he rattled off, pointing at each vigilante in turn. “The kid’s brothers decided to pop in. Turns out they’re in some kind of vigilante family business.”

“To be clear,” said Red Robin sardonically, “We weren’t intending to ‘pop in.’ _I_ came to collect our errant brother and leave. It was you who decided we should come up and talk.”

Nightwing made a small restraining gesture. “It’s fine. It’s probably best that we clear the air now, in case we ever need to work in New York again... or, with you, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Where do you normally, uh, work?” Bruce asked in his quiet way.

Nightwing exchanged a look with his brothers. “Gotham, mostly.”

“Woah,” said Clint. He’d been to Gotham a couple of times in his circus days. It lived up to its reputation for high crime.  “So... you guys see a lot of shit, I’m guessing.”

Nightwing snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Yeah, literally,” added Red Hood darkly. “You know pretty much nothing about it.”

Natasha looked at them thoughtfully. “Tell us more about what we know nothing about.”

Jason snorted. “Well, apart from the psycho evil baddies, you have no idea about the ‘hero’ world, and the sidekick thing, and--”

“Shut up,” Tim snapped immediately at that. “He _never_ treated us like _sidekicks._ We were always supposed to be his _partner_.”

“Sure, Replacement,” Jason responded sarcastically, “The kind of partner who takes orders and is temporary.”

“We’re never temporary,” Nightwing interjected more quietly. “We just grow up. But this isn’t the place to talk about him, anyway.”

“Who?” Black Widow interjected, in her most reasonable tone.

The Batkids all shared a long look. Finally, Nightwing responded. “Honestly, I would have thought you’d put it together by now... we’re vigilantes, from Gotham? Have you ever by chance glanced at a newspaper?”

“Batman,” said Bruce from the corner, and several heads swiveled to him. “You’re talking about Batman.”

“He’s supposed to be an urban legend!” Tony protested.

“And he likes to keep it that way,” the Batkids said, almost in unison

“I guess that’s why you have a bat on your chest?” said Captain America, gesturing towards Red Hood.

Jason glanced down at it with a strange expression, half smirk, half resignation. “Yeah. That’s why.”

Black Widow sat back slightly, eyes flickering as she rapidly processed information. “He’s your... father. ‘The Batman’ is... your father.”

None of the Batkids confirmed it, but they didn’t deny it either, which was enough.

“The Batman has _kids?_ ” yelped Tony. “No offense, but I never thought ‘the Dark Knight of Gotham’ would be a family man.”

"Can we meet him?" asked Clint suddenly, sounding weirdly excited. "What?" he said when everyone gave him a weird look, "The guy's a legend! He's a master at urban infiltration; Gotham is a shit-show, but he keeps it under control;  _And,_ " he paused for emphasis, looking very smug, "Natasha and I always disagreed on whether or not he was real, and I was right."

"To be fair, we had that conversation before we started working on a team with Norse gods and genetically modified super soldiers," muttered Natasha. Clint ignored her, still watching the Batkids.

"But he's not really part bat, is he?" He asked. "Bats always seemed kind of fragile to me. Is he part anything? Or just human?"

There was a long pause. "He's human," Nightwing admitted at last, clearly trying to share as little information as possible.

" _Called it,_ " said Clint, and sat back in deep satisfaction.

Nightwing looked at Hawkeye thoughtfully. “You used to be in the circus, right? ‘The Amazing Hawkeye?’” 

Clint looked surprised. “Uh... yeah. How’d you know?”

Nightwing shrugged, smiled. “I know some people in the circus crowd.”

“Like who?” Clint asked, more curious than actually prying.

Nightwing shook his head, silent, but kept his half-smile.

"Well as fascinating as this all is," said Damian, surly, "We have responsibilities elsewhere." He made as if to stand.

Captain America protested, "Wait, I think we still need some questions answered about how and why you were trained so young--" Before he was done speaking, in the same moment, Damien finished standing and there a soft thwick; a tranquilizing dart was sticking out of the cushion where he had been an instant before.

"Welp," said Jason, and everyone dove for cover.

"People like to tranq you, huh?" Hawkeye remarked to Robin.

Robin looked for a moment like wouldn't respond, but then said, "It's extremely irritating." He gave Clint his usual dark murderous glare, but Clint was getting used to them, and just nocked one of his arrows to his bowstring, trying to establish possible lines of sight of the enemy.

Things just kept getting interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so guys...*whispers behind hand* I feel bad about this whole invite suspension thing and I have a spare one. If anyone wants an invite.... I'll hook you up. I only have one, so whoever asks first gets it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone new shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to radika485, for providing some of the inspiration for this chapter. :)

Darts hissed through the room, each of them sharp and fast enough to pierce the strengthened window glass, leaving tiny holes and spiderwebbing cracks and sounding like cracking ice.

“The League of Assassins, I assume,” Natasha remarked from behind the coffee table, her gun drawn. She pointed out a target for Clint and he drew and shot in less than a second.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Red Hood, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Jarvis! Security measure 58,” snapped Tony, his voice changed through the faceplate he had put back on. Bright steel soon slid down over the windows, darkening the room before more lights came on to compensate. There were a few clangs as darts hit and bounced off, but the projectiles soon stopped.

“Sir, my sensors indicate there are at least 15 unidentified intruders in the building,” Jarvis’ voice announced urgently. “I’m afraid they somehow slipped past my alarms.”

“Meh, don’t stress about it; apparently these guys are from some fancy super secret ninja cult,” Tony said as he opened up a holographic display, fingers almost blurring as he tapped and manipulated the image. “Looks like they still haven’t made it past floor three. Locking it down now...”

“They’re not  _ ninjas _ ,” Damian said disdainfully, “And if you think that will stop them, you severely underestimate this threat.”

“The League of Assassins is trained to overcome any obstacle that they might face,” Tim quietly added. “They’re competent hackers, occasionally.”

Tony didn’t answer, evidently distracted by something new in his display, and Captain America answered for him. “We don’t need to stop them, we just need to slow them down and meet them on our own terms.”

Tony cursed under his breath, swiping a hand through the hologram to change it to another view. “Which I have, but it seems like one of them was already on an upper floor somehow...grappling hook, maybe?... he’s on floor 77 and climbing.”

Dick frowned. “They don’t usually split up when attacking en masse like this unless it’s a bigger player than we were expecting...dangerously big.” He turned to Red Hood. “And, by the way, why  _ were _ we expecting the League of Assassins?”

“Of course you assume it’s my fault,” scoffed Jason. Then he sighed. “Yeah, okay. It’s my fault. But also mostly their fault because they’re evil.”

“He’s getting close fast,” warned Tony, still monitoring the situation. “Looks like he’s in the air vents, maybe.”

“If it is someone we know, let us take care of it, okay?” said Nightwing to the Avengers and pulled out an escrima. “There’s usually... more to them than meets the eye.”

“Who’re you thinking?” Red Hood asked quietly. “Lady Shiva?”

Nightwing shrugged. “Shiva. Shrike. Could be anyone.” His voice was grim, focused.

“What did you do to piss them off again, Hood?” Red Robin asked curiously.

Jason shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He darted his eyes at the Avengers. Maybe it was something embarrassing. Tim kind of hoped so, so he could tease him about it for the rest of his life. Offense was the best defense.

“He has a talent for being infuriating,” Damian pointed out darkly. “It’s not exactly shocking.”

Dick hissed gently between his teeth and the others fell silent to hear a very, very faint noise. It was metallic, but not exactly clanging; more like something--some _ one _ \--tapping their way up the metal walls of some kind of air shaft. The ring of palms on metal got louder, closer, and everyone tensed, weapons trained on all the nearest vents. There was a loud bang, one of the vent covers bowing outwards, and another bang and a clatter as it got kicked off and spun away across the floor.

A blur of red and blue came tumbling out after it, halted in a crouch, then lept up to perch on the back of the couch. Web patterns covered his costume, there was a spider insignia on his chest, and his face was wholly covered, but something in his movements was all exuberance and youth. Everyone relaxed a fraction.

“Hey, guys!” The slight figure said, voice uninhibited by the brightly colored fabric covering his face. “I know we agreed I would stop dropping in without warning and stuff, but I saw these weird ninjas on some buildings across the street and wanted to get in and warn you before--holy shit, are those the  _ Batkids _ ?”

“You know us?” Dick said, sounding intrigued.

“You  _ know _ them?” Tony said almost at the same time, not quite outraged.

Spiderman fidgeted, lifting a hand as if to run it through his hair before flipping off the couch to stand a little more normally. “Well, I mean, I know  _ of _ them; Hi, guys!” he waved awkwardly at the Batkids, who were watching him with some curiosity. “Why didn’t you  _ tell _ me they were coming?” he hissed not-subtly out of the corner of his mouth.

“This is not a scheduled meeting--Clint just caught one!” said Tony, whose jaw was still a little wider than normal. “And why do you  _ know _ them?”

“Know  _ of _ them!” Peter corrected him again, glancing nervously at the Batkids. “And dude. I’m a teenaged superhero! How would I not know of them? They practically invented it! Even when I was a kid, I--knew of them.”

“How old are you?” asked Red Robin shifting slightly closer.

“Fifteen,” Spiderman answered promptly. “I mean. Should I have told you that? Probably not. But, uh. It’s cool to meet you.”

Red Robin gave him a small smile. “Nice to meet you, too. I’ve been impressed with the work on your... what were they called, webslingers? The dissolve rate of the fluid is particularly well done.”

“Oh, yeah?” Spiderman sounded slightly choked up, for some reason. “Thanks, it comes in handy, I could show you how they work sometime--”

“I believe we have more pressing matters,” Natasha interjected smoothly but not unkindly.

“Yeah, it’s been real, it’s been fun, but it ain’t been real fun,” Jason announced and rose from his crouch, pulling out a gun and making sure a round was chambered. “I think it’s time for me to shoot some ‘weird ninjas.’”

Nightwing rose quickly after him. “No kill shots, Hood.”

“The things I do for this family,” Jason grumbled, but didn’t protest, just rolled his shoulders and put his helmet on, preparing for combat.

“Wow, you’re taller than I thought,” said Peter without thinking, instantly regretting it when all heads swiveled towards him again, Dick and Jason’s with raised eyebrows.

“Which one of us?” Dick asked after a second.

“Um. Both? Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Um, can I help you fight weird ninjas, maybe?” Spiderman changed the subject desperately.

Damian harrumphed. “These are not  _ weird ninjas _ . They are fully trained assassins, and could very likely kill any of you. Especially as we are handicapped by a lack of lethal force.” He gave a dark look to the room at large, but especially at Spiderman.

“Sure, you can come,” Tim reassured Peter, ignoring Damian. “Just stay close, and don’t get cut. They like poisons.”

“‘Lack of lethal force’ isn’t a handicap, Robin,” Dick said absently, as though it was something he said often. “Let’s go, everyone. We can’t give them the chance to form a more elaborate strategy.”

The Batkids left the room, steps quiet and quick. Spiderman went with them, following Red Robin. Clint and Natasha looked at each other, shrugged, and followed after.

“Hey!” Tony shouted and headed after all of them. “Pe--Spiderman! Who said you could--this isn’t really our--you know a certain someone is going to kill me if you go off getting yourself killed by ninjas--” his spluttering got quieter as he got further away, leaving Bruce and Steve.

“I’m, uh, gonna bow out, actually,” Bruce said to Steve quietly. “This doesn’t really seem like my scale, and, uh, I don’t want to break the tower. But... call me if you need me for anything.”

Steve gave him a respectful nod. “Thanks, Bruce. Actually, uh... would you mind maybe working with Jarvis, combing through whatever information we actually have on, uh, this Bat guy? Seems like we should maybe get familiar. But only if you’d be comfortable with it.”

Bruce smiled at him. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see what I can weasel out of Shield, too.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks. We’ll keep you in the loop.” Then he turned and jogged out the door. He tapped at his ear. “Comms check,” he said quietly and listened to the familiar routine of everyone checking in. “Okay Avengers, let’s take care of this quickly and safely. First priority is to take care of the threat, but keep an eye on our new... acquaintances. There’s still a lot we don’t know about them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never in my life have I thought about shipping Peter Parker/Tim Drake, but this chapter made me think about it just a little? Not like it'll become an actual big thing, especially given their current age difference, but. When you think about it, it could totes work as, like, a crush for Peter.
> 
> For anyone wondering why I had Bruce back out... I just don't think this is the kind of thing that would be worth having the Hulk come out, and I think Bruce would avoid that as much as possible. 
> 
> And about the Batkid ages: I'm picturing Damian 13, Tim like 18, Jason like 23/24, and Dick like 27. I don't know? Don't come at me? But that's how I picture it. And Spiderman is 15, of course.
> 
> ANYWAY. Super long notes over. Drop a comment to talk about any of this! What do you think?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working together against the not-ninjas. Or starting to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been forever! I kind of lost some of my mojo, as well as being super busy with RL. It comes and goes, you know how it is. But I've said it before and I'll say it again, this story WILL get finished no matter how many years it takes! (Hopefully not that long though.) 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter; it is HARD keeping track of everyone! Sorry for any typos; my long awaited mojo struck in the dead of night, not prime proof-reading time. If you spot one, let me know in the comments. I don't have a beta, so you are morally obligated.
> 
> For the record, I do have a couple ideas for coming chapters, but I do not get up anyone's hopes on updating speed. In fact, I just got a review on another of my stories today saying "No offense but I'm glad I didn't find this till now! It took you forever to finish it!" or something along those lines; It cracked me up. Sorry readers who are finding this not in the future. Thanks for sticking with me. I would love any feedback you have; I definitely am still looking for guidance in myself for this story.

As large and motley as the group was, they moved almost silently. The Batkids especially moved with a kind of slick grace, sticking to the shadows in a way that almost persuaded you to look away even when you knew they were there. It kind of creeped Tony out. He was probably the loudest of everyone--his armor didn’t  _ clank _ , okay, but anything that heavy did not make it easy to walk quietly.

Also, he wished Peter would get back here and stay behind him instead of shadowing Red Robin up there. But Red Robin had just pulled out some kind of device that had Spiderman enthralled, even when Tony hissed his name.

“Looks like there’s fifteen of them just outside the front door; probably a lot more waiting for us to come out before approaching,” Red Robin called out. 

“Why are they here, anyway?” asked Clint. “Seems like kind of a loser strategy, laying siege to this tower of all places.” The Batkids all turned to look at Red Hood, and the Avenger’s eyes followed.

“Yeah, okay, it’s me,” Red Hood admitted. “They’ve been hassling me for a little while now, and I guess they tracked me down here, want to hit before I get too slippery. But!” he stuck a finger in Tim’s face to prevent a scoff, “No, I do not know what their problem is, or what they want from me. I try not to waste my time talking to assholes.”

“And look where it’s gotten you,” said Tim dryly, unfazed by the finger in his face.

“Hey, you want me to ask them? I’ll ask them right fucking now if that’s what you want, Replacement.”

Nightwing just sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his finger rubbing at his brow as though fighting off a headache.

 

 

A short time later, Red Hood walked brazenly out the glass front doors. “Hey assholes,” he called. “You picked a not-great tower to storm, here. Wanna tell me why?” 

A shuriken sliced through the air towards his throat but he casually ducked out of the way. “Sloppy form,” he called out again before a gun appeared in his hand and he shot off a few rapid-fire rounds. At least one hit a target, Tony observed through the security cams, as an assassin thudded to the ground. “Also, guns are faster.”

There was a shout in Arabic that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Jason just snorted and shouted back--also in Arabic. Tony saw the youngest kid’s eyes widen in the most surprise he’d ever shown, and out of curiosity asked Jarvis for the translation. Wow, those were curse words he’d never even imagined to exist.

“I thought you guys didn’t use guns?” Spiderman asked Red Robin hesitantly.

“We don’t,” said Robin brusquely, drawing a couple weird looks.

Tim somehow rolled his eyes without taking them off his many readouts and displays. “He’s kind of the... black sheep of the family. We mostly keep him off kill shots, but...” he shrugged. “All bets tend to be off with the League of Assassins.”

Peter nodded. “Okay, right, right, right, cool cool cool.” He folded his arms and unfolded them, shifting on his feet.

Outside, shurikens were flying like sideways hail, covering the movement of assassins that were closing in. Red Hood got off a few more shots and retreated back through the doors in a series of dodges and flips. He was surprisingly agile, considering his bulk. Not quite as lithe as his brothers, though, Black Widow noted.

As soon as he was back under enough cover he ejected his partially-full magazine and slid a new one home. “Three down, twelve to go, in the immediate vicinity anyway” he reported. “They just said they wanted me dead... again. I dunno. I vote we blow them up.”

Nightwing rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no. We don’t even know what they want.” He turned to look at Robin. “Want to go find out with me?”

“Your interrogation skills  _ do _ leave much to be desired,” grumbled Damian as he crossed his arms, but he looked undeniably pleased to be asked, and Nightwing grinned.

“Okay then. Red Robin, you’ll have to create a distraction while we grab someone to talk to, maybe with our new friend here?” he shot a charming grin at Spiderman.

“Hey!” Ironman protested. “He’s not just... some... child soldier to order around!”

“He’s not trying to,” Natasha said calmly at his side. “They’re just trying to effectively use resources.”

“Yeah, lighten up a little bit,” said Hawkeye and faked a punch at Ironman’s chest. “We’re fighting ninjas!” He grinned and jogged off, calling back, “I’ll go be eyes and arrows from Lookout 4!”

“Ooh, I’ll be eyes and bullets,” Red Hood told Nightwing. “It’s been a while since I got to snipe the snipers.” He jogged after Hawkeye, catching up swiftly.

“Keep us informed of any changes in position, yours or theirs!” Captain America called after Hawkeye.

“And I can help, right? Please, Tony? Captain?” Peter asked with all the pleading he could inject into his tone without losing dignity.

“Yes, you can go with Red Robin,” said Captain America. “Ironman will go with you. He likes distractions.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Ironman, mollified. “Sounds like my kind of gig.”

Captain America continued “And I can go with Nightwing and Robin, keep an eye on this ‘interrogation.’”

Nightwing jerked his hand in a minute movement to forestall Robin’s response and said “Uh, with all due respect, Captain.... No. We need to be fast and silent, and that’s something you are... not.” His tone was apologetic but unequivocal. 

“I’ll go with them,” said Black Widow, catching Steve’s eyes. She knew he wanted some kind of oversight on these Batkids, and she would be happy to observe them.

Nightwing swept his gaze over her once and nodded. “Alright. Just stay out of his way.” He jerked a thumb at Robin, his mouth bending just enough to hint at dimples, and turned to go. Robin was close at his right flank, and Natasha gave a tiny smile of her own to her teammates before following them both. 

Red Robin rolled his shoulders and cocked his head at Ironman. “Do you have a flashbang impervious filter in that mask?” He pulled out a bo stick with his left hand, full extending it with a sharp jerk, the other hand already moving to his belt.

“Obviously,” said Tony. “Is that the plan? Throw some lights around outside?”

“Actually I was thinking you could fly us out, drop us in midair, and we lay some ground fire while grappling to an observation position. You continue to draw fire while Spiderman and I pick them off.” Red Robin handed Spiderman two small, but heavy, cylindrical objects. “When you’re ready to drop one, press hard here,” he showed him, “and release into an open area. Not at the same time.”

“ _ Awesome _ ,” said Spiderman reverently.

Tony sighed long-sufferingly but leaned in to get a closer look. “Hm. Very compact.”

“We can compare gear later, but that distraction has to happen now,” said Red Robin, not insolent but insistent, and turned on his heel toward the front doors with Spiderman obediently by his side.

“These kids are so  _ bossy,”  _ Ironman complained to Steve, but promptly followed.

“Report in; I’ll be in contact!” Captain America called after them. “And just... here, I guess. The back-up.” He was essentially talking to himself by now, and he sighed. “Not really what I’m used to.” He tapped his earpiece in a comms check, heard answering clicks from all his teammates, and waited for the fireworks to begin.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight goes on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, everyone! Your comments have meant the world to me. :) Life's been a little crazy with moving, and I don't have a lot of confidence with fight scenes, so hopefully the next chapter will come out a little quicker in the lack of those difficulties.

Red Robin strode to the front door and threw out two smoke grenades before turning back to Iron Man and Spiderman. “Alright, we have about 10 seconds of less visibility,” he told them. “Iron Man, you need to pick us up and fly us that way,” he pointed up and to the right, “While we see who we can pick up. Showing off firepower would be so much the better; noise is a plus. Then Spiderman will swing to a building, I’ll get dropped off, and we’ll go from there. Don’t get too engaged with any one enemy.”

“Engaged? Nah, I try and avoid commitment on the first date,” said Tony as he activated his repulsors, warming them up a little. It got a laugh out of Peter, which he appreciated. “Okay kiddos, look sharp!” He grabbed them both by the back of their uniforms and rocketed out the front door.

There was smoke dissipating through the air, but Tony flew straight; his mask’s vision helping him dodge a couple wild projectiles. “Now!” shouted Red Robin, pointing, and Spiderman threw one of his canisters towards an alleyway probably full of assassins. There was only a moment before the flashbang went off.

“Get a little higher and drop me!” shouted Red Robin over his shoulder.

“I feel like a taxi service!” Iron Man shouted back, but sighed and began to gain altitude.

 

Meanwhile, Nightwing, Robin, and Black Widow had climbed out of a side window in the Tower and swung a wide arc to come behind any assassins, weaving through the city block. They heard a bang, loud enough to shake the ground a little, but they were distant enough that it didn’t hurt their hearing. Nightwing and Robin shared a glance of understanding. The distraction had begun and they needed to move quickly.

“This way,” Black Widow muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Better sightlines.” Nightwing followed her without complaint and Robin followed him.

Sure enough, as they rounded a corner they could see Iron Man through a gap in the buildings, climbing in the sky and carrying Red Robin and Spiderman. As they watched, still moving swiftly forward, he dropped them both. Red Robin shot out a grapple, swinging out of sight, as Spiderman did the same with his webbing. “ _ Your meter comes to $10.52, _ ” Black Widow heard Tony say through their comms system, and rolled her eyes.

It had taken longer than optimal to find a target, but finally Nightwing froze and made a few short hand signs to Robin. Black Widow hung back as they crept slightly forward, staying low to the ground. Then Nightwing nodded and Robin pulled out some kind of short blowgun from his utility belt and shot it into the darkness.

There was only the sound of a gasp and a fall, and Nightwing darted towards it, disappearing around the corner Robin had shot behind. There was a tense moment before he reappeared, dragging an assassin by the armpits, a dart still sticking out of the guy’s neck. Robin stepped forward to take the feet, reducing sounds of dragging, and all three (or four) of them retreated about 50 yards and a couple of turns.

Black Widow tapped her earpiece. “We’ve captured one, starting interrogation now.” 

The boys were laying him down now, Nightwing pulling the dart out and handing it to Robin to put in his belt. He looked up at Natasha, who was keeping a respectful distance, and grinned impishly, in contrast to the highly professional way they’d just taken down a hostile. “He’ll wake up in just a few seconds now.” Impressive.

“ _ Roger that, Black Widow _ ,” said Captain America over the comms. “ _ Hawkeye, how are we looking up top?” _

 

“Peachy, Cap,” replied Hawkeye, taking a break from laying some cover fire for Spiderman. “It’s not really like shooting fish in a barrel, but maybe like shooting fish in a river?“

“Like shooting ?“ Red Hood offered in between rifle bursts.

“Yeah! That’s a better one.” Clint placed another arrow on his bowstring, but all the Assassins had ducked out of sight for now. He glanced over at Red Hood curiously. His marksmanship was excellent; not as good as Clint’s (noone’s was) but about as good as Natasha’s, and definitely better than Steve’s.

“So... your dad’s the Batman,” Clint said after taking a couple more shots.

“Not talking about it,” Red Hood said shortly. 

Clint shrugged, not wanting to push it. But when there was a lull in counter-fire, he pulled out a special arrow from the quiver on his leg and nudged the guy with his elbow. “Watch this,” he said, and half-drew and shot into the air directly above them.

“What the hell--” Jason instinctively ducked, but cut himself off when skittles rained down briefly. He caught a few, and looked over to see Hawkeye already chewing through a grin.

“Skittles arrow!” said Clint. “Gotta keep up the blood sugar.”

Jason shrugged and tilted his helmet enough to tip the ones he’d caught into his mouth. They were the tropical kind, objectively the best, although the orchard ones were pretty good too. “What other tricks you got up your quiver?” he asked curiously, taking another couple shots with his rifle when he saw an assassin aiming up towards them.

Hawkeye grinned and drew two arrows at once.

 

“Woah!” said Spiderman a few seconds later. “Nice fireworks, Mr--I mean Agent--or, just, Hawkeye, I guess, sorry.”

_ “No problem, Spiderkid,” _ Clint said over the comms. “ _ How’s it looking from down there?” _

“Pretty good, I think. I’ve been able to web a few ninjas. And, uh, I helped Red Robin knock one out. Not that he needed help, really, but it was  _ awesome. _ ” Peter glanced over to make sure he wasn’t in earshot of said Batkid. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go fight ninjas with him some more; they kind of seem to be going for him more. Spiderman, uh, out.”

He scrambled down from a perch he had been taking a short break on and leapt closer to where Red Robin was fighting off three assassins at once. He managed to web one in the eyes, and Red Robin promptly swept the guy’s legs out from under him with his bo staff before whirling to deflect another. Spiderman got in front of the remaining one and found himself back to back with Red Robin.

He could hear the quick wooden strikes behind him of Red Robin’s fight, and quickly found himself engaged in a fight of his own as the ninja came right at him, kicking at his knee and grabbing towards his neck. With his spider reflexes, it wasn’t too threatening, and he was able to hold his own and get some strikes in, until the guy got frustrated and drew a katana from a sheath on his back.

“Uh, this guy has a sword now!” said Spiderman, alarmed. He’d actually never fought anyone with a sword. They weren’t that common in New York.

“Switch with me,” ordered Red Robin after a moment of consideration.

“Okay,” panted Spiderman, and they rolled around smoothly so he was facing a guy with two short sticks instead. A little more in his comfort zone, and Red Robin had him favoring his left leg already. Spiderman kicked at it in a feint, and when the guy jerked that way, changed direction in a blur to punch him as hard as he could in the face, making him stagger backward.

Then a projectile flew in and electrocuted the guy, putting him down for good. “Hey!” Peter shouted to the overflying Iron Man. “I had that one!”

“I know, kid, I just finished him off for you, relax,” Iron Man said, shooting him a jaunty wave and hovering in the air long enough for a couple of throwing knives to bounce off his joints.

“You may want to land,” Red Robin called out to Iron Man, and Peter looked over to see he’d taken care of sword guy and was getting something out of his belt. “They’ll shoot an EMP at you soon.”

“Thanks for the heads up, kid,” said Iron Man. “I think I can be evasive enough to avoid that.” He changed his flight pattern accordingly.

Tim shrugged and threw his smoke bomb down. “We need to move, prevent them from bunching up around us,” he told Spiderman. “Follow me.” The smoke billowed out quickly, covering their maneuvers.

“Best fight ever,” Peter said fervently to himself as he followed Red Robin around a corner and up a wall.

The assassin had woken up very quickly after Nightwing had taken the dart out of his neck, and had tried to struggle for a brief moment, but pressed himself back into the ground when Robin put a batarang to his neck. Nightwing casually rested a foot on the assassin’s hip, reducing any possibility of him gaining leverage to move out from under the knife.

“You know who I am,” said Robin coldly. Interesting, thought Black Widow, that Robin was allowed to lead the interrogation.

The assassin swallowed, clearly trying to keep his face impassive and struggling to do so. “Ibn al Xu’ffasch.”

“Yes. Then you know I will not stop until I reach my goal. You will tell us your objective here. Immediately.” The batarang dug in just a fraction further, still not breaking skin, and the assassin’s breathing quickened.

“We serve the glory of the Demon’s head, we fight his enemies, we--” the assassin was cut off as Damian pulled the hood off his head, placing the sharp edge of the batarang under his eye. The man’s pupil was unusually dilated, Natasha noticed, and wondered what else was in that dart.

“Your purpose, now, or I will send to back to my grandfather in pieces,” hissed Robin. “Nightwing, break his knee, so he will know that I do not lie.”

“Wait!” said the man before Nightwing could do more than shift his weight. “We were not told that we could not tell you. We were sent here to do as much damage possible, to draw out--”

“The Batman,” sighed Nightwing, speaking for the first time as he finished the sentence with the assassin. “Here, Robin.” Damian took the new dart without looking and jabbed it into the man’s neck precisely, rising immediately afterward and stowing his batarang. 

“Great interrogation,” encouraged Nightwing, “You didn’t even need to do any damage!”

The small figure only grumbled. “I still think that they are not as frightened when I cannot back up my empty threats with actual violence.”

“What was in the dart?” Black Widow interjected for the first time. They looked slightly surprised at her interruption, clearly used to working only with each other.

“The first one? A specially designed sedative, along with a mild fear inducer,” said Nightwing. “This one,” he nudged the limp body with his toe, “A much longer acting sedative, and the antidote for the fear inducer.”

“That was mild?” confirmed Natasha, raising her eyebrow. She had never seen a professional give up information that quickly. Of course, he could have been feeding it to them.”

Nightwing shrugged. “Ra’s’ people are trained to suppress fear response, but believe me, if the dose had been higher, he wouldn’t have been useful for anything.” He looked over at Robin. “Anyway, the fact that Ra’s didn’t forbid them from telling us anything means...”

“He wanted us to know,” finished Robin in a low growl. “He probably wants us to go running to Father and draw him out ourselves. Pah.”

“Do you think he’ll come?” asked Natasha, curious.

“ _ We _ wouldn’t ask him to!” hissed Robin immediately. “These idiots would never so easily manipulate us.”

Nightwing shrugged more pragmatically. “The truth is? No idea.” He glanced down the alleyway in the direction of the heavier fighting. “But either way, he didn’t train us to leave a mess. Come on, Robin, let’s take care of this.” They stalked off.

Natasha stayed behind for a moment to tap her radio. “Captain? The interrogation went well, and we’re going to help neutralize the threat. You’re welcome to join us."

" _Will do, Widow,"_ came the response. " _What do these guys want?"_

"The Bat," replied Black Widow. "And if you want my guess? He's on his way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muah ha ha ha ha. If you're wondering why Natasha thinks so with such confidence: she sees Nightwing's leadership style and the closeness of the brothers, and (correctly) thinks that the father of such a troupe wouldn't leave them out to dry. I think that Batman's kids just wouldn't have the perspective to see that; they tend to really doubt Batman's feelings for them.
> 
> Not that Batman isn't a huge jerk to them in the comics sometimes. But it never rings true to character to me when he's, like, too abysmal of a father.
> 
> I'd love constructive feedback, as always!


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